


Not Meant to be Caged

by thatlittlegray



Series: The Tweets of Kenny Omega [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Golden Lovers, Kenny is angsty and cusses a lot, Kota is too pure for all of us, M/M, Seriously entirely too much Twitter, THIS WHOLE STORY IS BASED ON TWITTER, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 08:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15360162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatlittlegray/pseuds/thatlittlegray
Summary: At this point in his life he used Twitter for work, entertainment, passing positivity into the world and maybe obsessing over Kota Ibushi.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in FOREVER, but I've read every GL story about 18 times and thought it was about time I give it a whirl. Srynotsry. This will probably last forever because KENNETH CANNOT STOP TWEETING.

Twitter had always been a welcome aspect of the job for Kenny. Connecting to fans, furthering his “brand”, responding to criticism, pushing the envelope to get the boss’s attention--he appreciated the business benefits of the platform. He also thought it was just really fucking cool.

He’d fallen in love with wrestling the day he realized that the fans weren’t just spectators, they were _part_ of the story. With Twitter, Kenny could grab his phone and ask the people who supported him how their day was or respond to sarcastic comments. He could reach out to old colleagues and say hi, or bust the balls of everyone who left to go to a company he'd escaped long ago. He got to talk to people from all around the world about gaming and wrestling and that was awesome.

When he first started he didn’t even use it in a professional sort of way and instead just posted [stuff that made him laugh](https://twitter.com/KennyOmegamanX/status/526988453645283328\)) and [stupid pictures](https://twitter.com/KennyOmegamanX/status/527374706404368385\).). As time went on, he got a little more savvy and realized maybe everyone didn’t need updated on _every_ single game he played. He also got busier and saw it was impossible to retweet every piece of fan art and respond to every comment. And eventually he learned the platform had a serious side, a necessary place for condolences and apologies and righting wrongs when need be.

Almost five years later and Kenny was still entirely appreciative of and immersed in the platform. At this point in his life he used Twitter for work, entertainment, passing positivity into the world and maybe obsessing over Kota Ibushi.


	2. Freak of Nature in the Best Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2018
> 
> "Freak of nature in the best way"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I wanted to write 'LOL cute sex', but instead got this little angsty nugget that turned out way more porn-y that I'd imagined. Forgive me and my awkwardness.

Kenny regrets picking up his phone as soon as he begins scrolling through his mentions. He’s sitting at a hotel room desk, spinning idly in a chair, needing a break from his game. He knows he’s having a bad day when he can’t even win in DBFZ. He decides a break is necessary when he briefly considers throwing the console out the window, so he grabs his phone and checks Twitter. He’s not surprised to see all comments and questions about Wrestlemania. It really  _is_ the biggest wrestling event in the world. It’s just that it stings deep in a way his sore knees and aching back don’t even reach.

He’d just given his all in a match with Cody, got superkicked by the Bucks, and feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest, but people wanted to talk about Shinsuke and AJ. Which was fine. They worked for the biggest wrestling company in the world and he didn’t. Which was also fine. People wanted to vent their frustrations over the quality of matches on the WWE card, while telling him he had a great match that “not enough people saw”. Which was completely fine. Absolutely and completely **_fucking fine_**.

He’s so fine that he fires off a sarcastic tweet about AJ trusting too many people. He likes the complimentary comments he can find about Supercard. He wonders if anyone has ever broken the glass of an iPhone with angry thumbs.

“You look like you want to knee your phone.” Kota’s deep voice shakes him out of his self imposed Twitter spiral.

“If I could lift my knee,” Kenny answers with a small smile. “Then that might very well be a possibility.”

He still wasn’t used to Kota’s presence, in a general and literal sense. He’d gotten so used to living without him that sometimes he’d have to double take when Kota spoke or moved after long lulls in conversation. He’s still surprised to see him lounging on bed across the hotel room. He looks soft and relaxed in a way that makes Kenny warm, even sitting next to the whirring air conditioner.

“See anything interesting?” Kota asks non-committedly and Kenny feels another deep stinging feeling wash over him. This thing between them still feels so raw and undefined that even simple questions are carefully worded to avoid any missteps. Ten years ago, Kota would have grabbed Kenny’s phone to just see what was annoying him. Today, Kota asks a question so cautiously (to not seem too comfortable or too interested), it comes out like he could give a rat’s ass if he actually gets an answer back.

“Oh you know, just the usual. Reading tweets about how the competition sucks, but that nothing will ever change and I’ll never reach their level. Nothing like a confidence boost when you’re feeling like absolute shit, ya know?” Kenny knows he sounds like a petulant child. He didn't actually read any tweets that said that, but he might as well have. He knows he shouldn’t care what people say about other organizations, that he should care about what he’s done, what he’s doing. He fought Cody and accidentally kicked Brandi and the Bucks superkicked him in the fucking chest and _**he lost**_. He knows he has more important things to worry about then that company, but he can't stop the niggling annoyance from overtaking him. 

Kota, upper body leaning against the headboard and long legs stretched out across the mattress, scoffs. “Since when do pay attention to what others are doing, Kenny?” Apparently Kota also knows that Kenny shouldn’t care about it, which is more than irritating to Kenny’s already frazzled psyche.

“I don’t know, Ibu-tan. I guess around the time you joined their ranks.” Kenny strikes back, wincing as the words leave his mouth. Kota thumps his head back against the headboard sucks in a deep breath.

Kenny wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. They’ve been playing it so safe and so careful in their interactions, treading lightly around any area that might cause upset. Kota moving across the world and not talking to Kenny definitely counted as one of those areas. Despite all the shit Kenny blasted on Twitter and in interviews before their reunion, they hadn’t addressed anything like that since getting back together. _Maybe that’s why we keep losing_ , Kenny thinks, not for the first time. Kenny wonders if he should just live his life out in this nondescript hotel room in New Orleans instead of dealing with all the shit he had in front of him.

“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t see where you’re going with it,” Kota finally responds. He’s still got his eyes closed and Kenny wonders if he’s angry or sad. He can’t read Kota’s emotional cues the way he used to, which adds another layer of grief to him.

“You don’t see where I’m going with making shitting comments about you going to WWE?” Kenny responds, trying to level his voice and calm the emotions simmering inside him.

“No” Kota responds quickly, “I’m ignoring that, because it’s dumb. You know you’re being ridiculous.” He opens his eyes to take Kenny in again. ”I’m talking about your frustration with whatever you saw on your phone. I don’t see where your thoughts end, what they mean. I don’t see what you’re trying to say here.”

Kenny had been preparing for a fight over his stupid comment. Leave it to Kota to use this to reach out and actually talk. He throws his phone across the room, to the bed Kota still comfortably took up. He decided that he might as well begin his self-imposed exile now and stood up from his chair to flop down on the other queen bed. Even the soft impact of falling on the bed irritated the sore spot in his chest from the Bucks superkick. Everything hurts.

“You’re not a kid, you know.”

Kenny snorts into the limp pillows. His body wouldn’t let him forget that fact even if he tried. “Yeah and what of it, Ibushi?”

“I mean, you’re an adult. In control. If you’re not happy with your situation, change it. I know it’s frustrating to you, how this business works and I respect that. But I don’t understand you acting jealous of the attention the WWE gets. If you want more attention, join them. If you won’t join them, why spend so much time worrying about what they’re doing?”

Kenny wonders if its a bad time to ask why Kota didn’t stay. If Kota was a “superstar”, this weekend would have been totally different. He could have seen a much bigger crowd, could be making more money, could be more popular. He wouldn’t have to deal with Kenny. Those all seem like better alternatives to sitting in this hotel room with someone who has a perpetual raincloud following them around. 

He feels the bed sag with Kota’s weight and decides against those questions, at least for today.

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about the competition, Ibushi. I feel like I should tweet about it.” Kota quietly laughs as his hands make their way down Kenny’s back, pressing into the areas that he knows are always sore.

“I’m not trying to be mean, Kenny” Kota says gently, hand brushing against the side of Kenny’s face, urging him to make eye contact. “I just think there's no solution to your problem. You're going to drive yourself crazy worrying about things and people you can't control.”

Kenny let out a small moan as Kota’s hands move to his back again, pushing lower. “I know. I know I’m being dumb. It’s stupid. I normally don’t care this much.” Kenny rolls his body over, stretching out his back and neck. Kota keeps rubbing, now down Kenny’s chest and stomach. “I just think it feels like a really shitty ending to a really shitty couple of days.”

“Can I ask what exactly you saw?” Kota asks, as his hand starts to explore lower, skirting underneath Kenny’s t-shirt and pressing against his hip bone. Kenny has an urge to adjust himself underneath his denim shorts, but doesn’t want Kota to stop. Feeling Kota's hands on him still feels new, all over again and he can't ignore the quiet excitement that bubbles underneath him every time they touch. He feels like there's some little voice in his head cheering "finally!" each time their bodies meet. 

“Just people saying how dumb their matches were and that they felt like we had a better show and it was a shame more people weren’t watching, blah blah blah.” Kota laughs in earnest as his hand reaches further into Kenny shirt, brushing across his chest and stopping in the center. Right where that superkick landed. Kota leans his head down so close that his lips brush against Kenny’s ear.

“I think you’re seeing the worst in things, Kenny Omega. People are reaching out to you because they know how good you are. Because they know the quality of your work. They want everyone else to bring the same heart to the business that you do.” Kota’s hand presses into that achey spot and when Kenny lets out a breath that might sound like a moan he lightly kisses against Kenny’s ear. He isn’t sure if Kota’s hand is hurting him or making him feel good and wow, Kenny thinks, isn’t isn’t a weirdly representative of their entire relationship.

Kenny reaches his hands to card through Kota’s hair and bring their faces inches apart. This close and Kenny should be able to find flaws on Kota, but he doesn’t. His eyes looking so warm, strong nose, soft lips, cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. Kenny feels like he should say Kota looks like an angel or perfection, but all he can think is that he has to be a mistake. No one should be able to look like this. 

“Thank you for bringing me down.” Kenny keeps their faces close, loving the feeling of Kota’s breath against his own. Kota’s hand has moved from his chest, down to the top of his shorts. Kota’s hand fits just inside the top band, enough that he can lightly grab at Kenny’s already hard cock.

“You should be thanking me for keeping you up as well.” Kota whispers against his lips and Kenny swears he would laugh and if Kota wouldn’t have just squeezed the head of his dick. He instead decides to pull lightly at Kota’s hair, bearing his neck so Kenny has a chance to press his lips against the column.

Kota hasn’t said it, but Kenny’s pretty sure he has a thing for his stubble. When they were together before, he'd always keep himself clean shaven, a literal baby face. When he became "The Cleaner", a beard seemed like the only way to go. Once things got all complicated with Cody, the Bucks and Kota, Kenny couldn't be fucked with it either way and shaved whenever he wanted to. Kenny knows now he won't ever waste his time making his face as smooth as possible, because Kota acts like a cat wanting scratches against even the tiniest bit of stubble. Every time Kenny kisses along his body, Kota arches into his lips twisting to get the scrape of his chin against his skin. As Kenny kisses and bites along his neck, Kota twists and turns to rub against him. The hand on his dick grips tighter. Funny how they both like a bit of pain with their pleasure.

Kenny’s been hard for too long and needs to see more of Kota, so he takes his hands out of his hair to pull at his shirt. Kota, always the quick one, moves to his knees and removes his hand from Kenny's pants to throw the offending garment across the room. Kenny's brain is overloaded at this point and he knows he's not thinking clearly, but he somehow wildly hopes that one day Kota won't be so attractive. Seeing him look down at Kenny, breathing sped with arousal, skin flawless, perfectly shaped muscles fucking _everywhere_ and a thick bulge against his gray sweatpants--Kenny just thinks he should throw in the towel. He might just die one day staring at him. He can't be real. Not the way that he looks, not the way that he makes Kenny better, not the way _he came back_ and certainly not the way his kisses Kenny right then. The man was a god damn freak of nature. 

Kenny wants to stop appreciate Kota in any possible way he can and uses his strength to flip Kota over so he can be on top. Kenny lets him get settled and then starts his dissent down Kota's body. He's happy he hasn't shaved in a few days, because Kota's arching his hips as he rubs his chin down his chest and through the dip in his stomach. He nips and sucks at the tan skin, marveling at the lack of marks or bruises. Kota's skin has rarely let the dangers of the job affect it, staying smooth and unmarked even through the nastiest of dives. Kenny drags his tongue under the pockets of Kota's hip bones, loving the feeling of his cock rubbing for purchase against his chest. As he sucks into the thin skin, he notes that even with Kota grinding his clothed cock into his sore chest, his aches and pains seemed to have subsided. 

Kota hands found their way into his hair somewhere between him sucking on his nipples and licking under his belly button and now seemed to be gently guiding Kenny lower. Gentle, sweet Ibushi would never force his head down, but Kenny knows he isn't above making his own desires obvious. Kenny mouths at his cock through the sweatpants, letting his saliva wet turn the gray dark with saturation. Kota's moaning louder now, adding quiet "Kenny-tans" to the mix when Kenny sucks around the head. Kenny never thought he'd get to do this again and has spent the past two months reveling at every encounter with Kota. He wanted Kota to know how much he meant to him, how sorry he was, how much he loved him. Kenny had always done better with a little talking mixed with a lot of physical expression and as a man of integrity, blow jobs were no fucking exception. He pulls up from Kota's bulge and drags the sweatpants down just enough the the base of Kota's cock is peeking out of the top. Kenny mouths at it, eyes looking up Kota. 

"Are you waiting for me to beg? Or just finding pleasure in my frustration?" Kota asks with far too much composure in Kenny's opinion. He takes his mouth off Kota and lifts his chin to rest right above the patch neatly trimmed hairs. 

"Maybe a little of both."

Kenny moves his hands to drag down Kota's pants, lifting his own body just enough to pass the fabric down. His cock springs up, but is trapped under Kenny. The sound that Kota makes when his dick brushes against Kenny's stubbled neck is enough to finally get Kenny to get a hand on himself. As he moves his own hand down to up button his shorts and grab at his own cock, he inches further down to finally get his mouth on Kota. It's unsurprising that even this part of him is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. The thought is ridiculous enough that a small smile escapes his lips. 

"Is something down there funny?" Kota questions and Kenny can see now that he's beyond teased and moving into overstimulated. The fact that Kenny recognizes that in Kota, can see it without having it said, makes him feel like he's flying. He's going to make this so good for his boy. 

"Just thinking that I can't wait to get my mouth on your perfect cock." Kenny replies just before swallowing Kota down. Kota hands tighten in his hair and he lets out a moan that sounds like he'd been holding for too long. Kenny can't swallow his whole length down, but he's doing his absolute best and Kota is rapidly losing control. Tears are leaking from Kenny's eyes and he's remembering every tip on deep breathing because he refuses to pull off until he makes Kota come. Kenny can feel Kota getting closer, moaning as his hands are pulling at his curls and his hips are stuttering up and down into Kenny's mouth. Kenny moans around his cock and uses his free hand to rub up Kota's chest, getting his attention. Kota's eyes had been screwed shut, but slowly open to see Kenny pulls up and brings just head of Kota's cock into his mouth and suckle. Its all done from there. Kota's cum fills his mouth, but Kenny keeps going, moving up and down until Kota is crying out from the stimulation on his sensitive body. 

Kenny expects Kota to be fucked out and boneless, but before he can even look up, Kota is moving down the bed to take Kenny in. He knows he must look ridiculous--his hand is jammed down his already too tight jorts, his face is covered and come, and he can feel the heat radiating from his top half and his skin undoubtably looks like a god damn tomato. If Kota's appreciative once overs are any indication, he's found someone attracted to tomatoes. He sees Kota's hand reaching down to touch him, but he quickly elbows the hand away and takes his own out of his pants. Kota takes in the cum covered fingers and laughs. 

"Couldn't wait for me?"

"No. I could barely keep it in my pants then. After all that? You spread out for me looking like some kind of sex angel? Definitely not." Kota snorts at Kenny's description and gets up to go to the bathroom. Kenny's completely unsurprised when he comes out with a warm washcloth and wipes down Kenny, pulling him out of his too tight shorts and cleaning off his hands and face. "How come you're always taking care of me? It's like when we fight, no matter how hurt you are, it seems like you're always the one taking care of me."

Kota throws the washcloth towards the other bed and lays next to Kenny. 

"Again with you seeing the worst in things. I didn't just take care of you. We just took care of each other, Kenny. That's how this is supposed to work." Kenny thinks that maybe he's right and maybe that's part of the reason everything is going to shit right now. He needs to accept they're in this together. He knows Okada is coming. Cody. Maybe even the Bucks. He knows he needs him in his corner. He kisses Kota and hopes that he can feel how much he loves him. They haven't gone down that road yet. Not yet. He pulls himself up to the top of the bed and grabs at Kota to follow. They cuddle up together, legs entwined. 

After a while he feels Kota’s body go limp with sleep and rolls over to grab at his phone. He feels more awake then he has in days, but doesn't want to disturb Kota's sleeping form. He clicks the stupid little bird logo more out of habit than anything, but smiles when he sees the tweet. He knows he should ignore stuff like this. It too real, too personal. It's not really appropriate for whatever it is they're doing. But when he looks over at Kota's face, feels his body pressed up against his, he wants people to know he sees it. He knows now what he was in front of him. He knows how lucky he is and he wants everyone else to know it too. 

_**Freak of nature in the best way** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tweet: https://twitter.com/KennyOmegamanX/status/983419561436303365 
> 
> I have been deliriously searching through Kenny's twitter. THIS STORY COULD GO ON FOREVER. I mean, really, he tweets about Kota A LOT. I have a few more of my favorites coming up, but please share any you might want to read about!


End file.
